


Dreams of Light: FFXIV Write 2018

by LynMars79



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 16,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16817203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: An archive of my FFXIVWrite2018 works, focusing on my personal Warrior of Light: Aeryn Striker, a midlander originally from the Coerthas-Gridania border, who left Eorzea as a child and returned years later, after her elder brother went missing in the Calamity.





	1. Submerged

**Author's Note:**

> Some characters show up a couple times, others only once; a few not tagged are mentioned and/or are not a focus.
> 
> Titles will be mostly the prompt words/phrases. The prompts were sometimes very vague jumping off points to a scene that may seem to have little to do with the original word. These will not be in anything resembling chronological order, so expect things to skip around Aeryn's childhood, ARR, HW, and SB timelines. Spoilers abound!
> 
> As this was a daily writing challenge, these are all quickly written and minimally edited; some are rougher than others. Some I'm fairly pleased with. Some might get reworked and expanded on later, if/when I get to writing more of Aeryn's story. There were 26 days of writing, with a few make-up/freebie days given throughout the month by the event organizer.
> 
> Originally posted to my FF tumblr, https://autumnslance.tumblr.com/ and found in the "My Writing", "FFxivWrite2018", and "Aeryn Striker" tags and menu link.

Fire and dust and heat gave way to the cool bright light of a spell. As much as he trusted the Archon, part of him wanted to fight against the teleport as the massive shadow of darkness and flame swooped over what had been their battlefield.

He was pulled away between eye blinks.

Nothing.

It may have been no time, it may have been forever; he could not tell. He was not even sure he existed.

Had something gone wrong?

_Beloved son…_

The voice was faint; no more than a whisper inside his own heart, his own mind. But he strained for where it seemed to come from, what felt right, and tried to move that way.

The voice guided him; a whisper at first, then a murmur, then half a distant conversation. At about that point, a tiny glint of light caught his gaze--he still had a gaze of some sort--and he reached for it.

For Her.

Instantly an eternity later, he floated next to Her. Her voice washed over him, around him, gentle and warm.

Despite Her own pain.

A vague memory of existence came to mind, of the battlefield, the dragon, the attempted spell and how it had broken, how they had been flung…

This was not where he was supposed to be. Not where his friend had meant to send him.

But it was where he needed to be.

He reached for Her, a child trying to comfort his Mother, offering what help he could. All that he could give.

She asked once if he was certain. He was. Her need was far greater than his own--and how better to protect, to save, those he loved, that he had fought so long and hard for?

And besides, he was so bloody tired.

She embraced him. He had a recollection of childhood, of floating in the lake near his first home, and letting himself slowly sink into the water for fun. It felt like that now, only into Light instead.

The edges of his body faded away as he sank into the glow, giving himself and his own light, his own strength, back to the Crystal.

As everything faded into brightness, one last thought, one last name, echoed across the remnant of his consciousness.

All was Light.

~******~

Aeryn gasped awake from a dream of Light as the world shook again. The sky outside was a strange color, but everything else seemed normal. Eorzea was far away, and that’s where everyone said the worst was happening.

She wiped her face; it was wet with tears, but she had no idea why. Something to do with the dream she had been having.

She wished she could remember.


	2. Silenced (What the Wind Stole)

As an infant, Aeryn was told, she never stopped babbling and making noise almost from the moment she left the womb. “The only time you were quiet,” Mother said, “was when you were fast asleep--and that never lasted long enough.”

She laughed about it, years later, but Aeryn knew it had been trying on her, and that Mother had done what she could to hush her child.

As a tot, teetering after her older brother, she had explored the words she could now say, quickly and often, repeating new words she heard, enjoying how they felt in her mouth, on her tongue, the way new sounds changed the shape of everything, how volume could force constriction or expansion of her throat.

“I used to wish you’d just shut up and give me a tick to think,” her brother said.

Aeryn remembered his childhood annoyance; that was easier to forgive.

As she grew into young childhood, silence was a punishment, a deterrent. Stand in that corner and say nothing for a quarter of a bell. If you’re quiet for a few minutes, you can have your dessert. Please stop talking, you’re giving me a headache. Good little girls should be quiet. If you don’t stop talking right now, by the Fury I’ll make you stop!

But she had so much to _say_ , so many words to learn and try and form into... _something_. She wasn’t sure what, but perhaps if she found the correct combination of words, that feeling bubbling inside her would finally burst into what she was supposed to be.

Then the dragons came. There was no time to speak as they raced back home, as fast as the chocobos could go. No words she knew could describe the sight of their burnt home, the ruins of their village, the inability to find Father. No sound came when the Azure Dragoon himself stopped to speak to Mother, his shining black helm turning toward Aeryn, hiding behind Mother’s skirt and shying away when he offered the child a tight, tired smile.

It did not hide the rage radiating off him in waves. Aeryn felt only relief when he leapt away.

Mother found passage to the land of her birth. She told them, over and over, that she refused to allow Ishgard’s endless war to take anymore from her, to touch more of her family, and so they sailed away. She kept saying this would be a good change, and retold them all of the stories of her homeland and people, again and again.

Aeryn was a ghost, silently trailing after her mother or brother. Her mind kept replaying the ride home, clinging to her brother as their chocobo careened after Mother’s, the wind whipping past so fast it was hard to breathe.

It was as if that wind had stolen away her voice, when she could finally look up and see what remained.

“Such a good, quiet little girl,” an old woman said at the campfire. It was the first night they rejoined her Mother’s people, and the wandering caravan they were part of, traveling the length and breadth of the land for half of the year.

Mother shook her head, brushing Aeryn’s fine black hair with her fingers. “She used to talk ceaselessly. She’s barely made a sound since...it happened.”

Aeryn knew she was worrying Mother, but how could she explain? How could she fix it, make Mother not worry anymore?

The conversation continued around her, dull and distantly buzzing in her ears, their words nothing more than formless sound. She stared at the fire, liking the way it danced, and became aware she was being watched.

Another old woman held her in a steady gaze, kind and gentle. Aeryn tilted her head, and the elder tilted her head in response. Aeryn squinted, and the woman squinted back. Aeryn made a face, and when that too was mirrored, she couldn’t help but giggle, making the old woman smile, and startling Mother.

Shovanna was an old teacher; her son handled most of the children by then, but she took Aeryn’s hand and led her away from those classes, to have their own among the wildflowers and trees, by brooks and ponds, in near silence.

Shovanna said little, and Aeryn felt no pressure to say anything when with her; not like with Mother, or her brother, or grandparents and uncles and cousins. She could simply walk along, pointing out things she liked or found interesting, tugging Shovanna’s shawl when she needed her attention. She could help the old woman with her gathering and other chores, with her crafts and creative projects, and felt understood despite the lack of words.

Aeryn could almost breathe.

As they reached the winter camp and settled into the routine of something like their old village life, Aeryn had dreams of whipping winds and fiery wings and charred buildings. The sounds she made were screams and sobbing, Mother kept awake as if tending an infant again.

Shovanna began a new game with Aeryn; designs on paper, in the dirt, as they sewed. String the designs together, however...Aeryn gasped the first time she realized that was a word, and what it meant. Shovanna smiled, patted her back, and wrote a new one.

Making letters herself was difficult at first, but Aeryn learned quickly, driven to unlock this new way to use words. To describe what she saw, what she wanted, what she thought. Mother had to shake her awake at the table to put her to bed, taking away the pens, ink, and paper so Aeryn couldn’t try to keep going.

The nightmares lessened.

Just as Spring was coming and preparations were being made to return to their winding route along the countryside’s trade roads, Shovanna placed a piece of paper in front of Aeryn. She recognized the old woman’s tidy handwriting.

_Why did you stop talking?_

Aeryn figured out the words, and frowned. After several long minutes, she took the pen Shovanna offered, and carefully wrote a reply, trying to keep it neat.

_The wind stole my voice._

“Hrm,” Shovanna hummed. She took back the paper and pen, and wrote a little more. Then she passed it back to Aeryn.

_Tell me?_

She held the pen out to the little girl.

Aeryn hesitated, then took it. She wasted some ink, blotching the paper as she thought. It came slowly at first, then faster, her handwriting getting larger and messier as the words came tumbling out, too fast for her hand to keep up and it was getting so hard to see the paper and her writing because her eyes were stinging so badly and...and...and...and….

An angry, shapeless sound tore out of her throat, like a dam breaking in a flood, as the words raced up her fingers--arms--shoulders--to her unblocked throat--out of her mouth.

Shovanna held her and stroked her hair until the torrent abated, leaving Aeryn shaking and hiccuping.

Her voice came in fits and starts, some days easier than others, but she was speaking again, and her family was relieved. The nightmares faded as she wrote about them, taking that fear and energy, channeling it into stories, songs, and poems. She wrote notes to her brother and mother, and letters to friends made along their travels.

She was still praised for being a good, quiet girl, but she was no longer entirely silent.

When she returned to the land of her birth, the praise became “stoic” as she became an adventurer, then a Scion, and then the Warrior of Light.

Yet she spoke, and sang, and wrote poems and letters. She met an elderly elezen with legendary bow skills but more interest in the power of songs, and a dashing miqo’te in red who wove spells and swordwork. She again met the man who used to be the Azure Dragoon, whose lance was as steeped in history as in combat.

Aeryn had spent so much time, in her incessant chatter as a child, in her ceaseless writing as a youth, trying to figure out that _something_ she had once felt bursting inside her, that she had feared the wind had stolen away.

She prayed to the saints gone before to guide her hands, sang to encourage her allies, and called fire and stone down upon the realm’s foes.

Aeryn would not be silenced again.


	3. Adytum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adytum:  
> 1\. (in ancient worship) a sacred place that the public was forbidden to enter; an inner shrine.  
> 2\. the most sacred or reserved part of any place of worship.

Aeryn entered the Solar and looked around. Unukalhai was usually here, studying, and she had thought to ask him if he would be willing to share any information about the Ascians, after everything they had learned in Doma. The Solar, however, was empty. Evidence of the boy’s presence was apparent in the stack of books on the table by the fireplace, a few notes scrawled in a language she could not read; the Echo’s translation did not extend to writing and recordings.

Perhaps he was getting a meal. Aeryn turned to leave, and noticed that the door on the other side of the room, past the simple partitions, was ajar.

A knot constricted in her heart; that was the Antecedent’s private chambers. No one went in there--except, perhaps, F’lhaminn once every other moon or so, to check the dust covers on the furniture, air it out, to make sure nothing was wrong or out of place.

_Just in case._

It was almost funny, how no one had thought to enter the Antecedent’s room after the Rising Stones had been reclaimed. Not until Thancred had been found, anyroad, and upon hearing about how they had to clean up after the coup, he had personally made sure Minfilia’s space was ready for her return.

Since they had all agreed to tell no one about what Aeryn learned after her foray into the Antitower, the chamber continued waiting for an occupant that would never come home. After what happened at the Bowl of Embers--funny how that place marked a couple significant turning points in Aeryn’s life now--the room remained unused. The door stayed locked, for the most part.

Aeryn had never been inside, herself; there was certainly no need for the boy to enter, either. He had been given his own chamber--though Aeryn couldn’t quite recall ever seeing him use it. Perhaps she was just too busy to catch him going in or out. Regardless, if he was in Minfilia’s room now and Thancred or F’lhaminn found out...

“Unukalhai?” She called.

There was a sound of startlement, and the small masked figure slipped out, closing the door behind him. “Aeryn. I did not hear you come in.”

“Obviously.” She crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t be in there.”

“I know,” he said. He wasn’t removing his mask, as he often did when privately speaking to her or one of the others involved in the Warring Triad threat. “F’lhaminn was performing one of her checks, but had to leave in a hurry, and the door did not latch properly. I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me.”

Aeryn nodded. Sometimes, due to his formality and otherworldly nature, it was difficult to remember that Unukalhai was just a child. "I won’t tell her, or the Archons. Just...rein in the curiosity next time, and let F’lhaminn know she forgot to lock the door."

“What was she like?” He suddenly asked.

Aeryn blinked. The lad pushed away from the door and crossed to where Aeryn stood and looked up at her. “The Antecedent. What was she like, that even now her space is kept so...sacrosanct?”

Aeryn let out an amused huff. “Likely she’d think we were being foolish, even as she would be charmed.” She thought about the young woman who had taught her about the Echo, had been like a sister. She thought of the blinding presence of the Word of the Mother, and the promise of someday.

Aeryn inclined her head toward the red chairs by the fireplace. “Let’s sit; I have things to ask you about, too, but we can talk about her first. Maybe it will help you understand the other Scions better...”


	4. Saving Time

The two Scions appeared in the dusty square of Blackbrush Station with a pop of displaced air and aether. The morning sunlight was blinding and hot. Aeryn blinked rapidly to adjust her gaze and get her bearings; she had only been to this depot once.

She already missed the cool breeze off the sea as the still heat settled over them.

“And here we are,” Thancred said. “Now we just hire a couple of birds to get us to Camp Drybone, and deal with this missing persons issue. Once you’re attuned there, it shall be quite simple to get back to Horizon.”

“Simpler if Vesper Bay had an aetheryte,” Aeryn mused. It did strike her as odd that the port was lacking such a convenience.

“Yes, well, we’re working on that,” Thancred said. She almost missed the grimace he made, but raised her brow at catching it. He sighed. “Issues with...certain members of the Syndicate well aware of our order, but either do not believe in our necessity, or are more than aware, but wish to apply pressure on the Antecedent, thinking her a mere girl that they can bend to their personal whims.” He grinned with a fondness as he turned away from the aetheryte. “They don’t know her.”

Aeryn nodded as she followed the bard to the chocobo porter. She had never considered politics as a factor; perhaps that was naive of her.

In any case, they had plenty of time now to get to the bottom of these thefts and kidnappings. Teleportation, when one had the anima, was definitely a time saver.


	5. Show of Hands

Aeryn shook her head, arms crossed. “Show ‘em.”

The quartet of Doman children--plus one small miqo’te girl--shuffled their feet, heads down. Koharu finally sighed heavily and pulled her hands out from behind her back.

Aeryn fought the urge to smile--or worse, giggle--as the others followed her lead, the results all the same. Yozan was the final holdout, and though his head was down, she could still see the stubborn set of his jaw and how his nose and mouth were screwed up, trying to match the stoicism of the Warrior of Light. She stepped over, until she was standing directly in front of the boy.

She simply waited.

Finally, with a sound of frustration, he pulled his hands forward as well. Like the others, his hands were now three times their usual size and covered in a coarse purple fur and orange warts. How exactly they had gotten that color combination would likely make for fine academic debate, but convincing her irate colleagues of such might take some doing.

“Well. I hope we’ve learned our lesson about playing in things Master Coultenet and Archon Y’Shtola say not too.”

“...They’re kinda like toy monster hands,” Shiun said reluctantly. “Like for All Saint’s Wake.”

“Yeah,” Rokka said. “We could make games out of having...these...I mean…”

Matron grant her strength. She was liable to start laughing. “Not what I asked, children.”

The miqo’te girl looked up, tears threatening to spill out of her large eyes. “We’re sorry! We won’t do it again!”

Bless her, she was just along for the ride; Aeryn was well aware whose idea it had been, as she continued to look at Yozan and Koharu.

“She’s right,” Koharu said quickly. “We should have listened to Master Coultenet. Right, Yozan?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment, but his partner’s glower was difficult to ignore. “...Right. No more getting into the Archon’s experiments.”

“C-can you fix our hands, Miss Aeryn?” The little miqo’te’s stub of a tail tried to mimic the lashings of a much older girl, making her wiggle in agitation. “My mama will be so mad.”

Aeryn nodded. “If only to keep all of you from worse trouble; the Archon would not be so lenient. You’re lucky I convinced her to let me handle this.”

Perhaps not entirely true, but as Thancred had said, it was never to early to put the fear of an angry Y’shtola into them.

Using the formula Coultenet had offered, Aeryn managed, one at a time, to reduce the swelling, shed the hair, and remove the warts from each small hand. “Good as new,” she said, as she inspected Yozan’s hand for any remaining traces. Perhaps a bit of a purple hue, but it was faint enough and should be entirely gone in a day or two. “I suggest you make yourselves scarce until supper.”

“That’s only a few more bells,” Shiun said hopefully.

“Ooh, and a rice pudding dessert tonight--” Rokka began.

Aeryn shook her head. “Sorry; no dessert tonight. Something about having to clean up messes in the lab cutting into prep time.”

All five young faces slackened in disappointment. “Well,” Yozan said. “Guess we better go find a new adventure to fill the time. C’mon!” He turned to run off, likely toward one of their favorite meeting spots.

The others dashed to catch up. Koharu pausing briefly. “Thanks, Miss Aeryn!” she said, before rushing after the others, easily catching up thanks to her longer stride.

Aeryn turned and went around a corner, where she could finally laugh.


	6. Serendipitous

It was oft said that things just seemed to happen whenever she came around. Stalled investigations found a new lead. Long awaited reports suddenly arrived. People were saved just in the nick of time. Villains thwarted at just the right moment.

Hells, she even managed to get to the bakery in time for the freshest pastries (for which Y’shtola was eternally grateful).

It all got to be a bit...Much.

So when she walked into the Adder’s Nest to check in on a friend and Vorsaile Heuloix saw her and beamed, then began to say “Ah, Aeryn, it’s so lucky you arrived just now! There was a request--”

Aeryn sighed, turned on her heel, and walked right back out, leaving a stunned Serpent Commander behind her.

“Oy, Aeryn! Wait up!”

She stopped, closing her eyes and counting the steps it took Guydelot to catch her. Not many, given the man’s long legs and matching stride. As soon as he was next to her, she looked up at the gangly elezen. “Please don’t tell me he sent you after me.”

“Ha!” Guydelot scoffed. “As if Vorsie could give me an order; only one officer I _consider_ obeying, and even _then_ , only when I feel like it,” he waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t call him that,” Aeryn said automatically. “How is Sanson? I wanted to see how his recovery was coming along.”

“He’s whiny and crabby and driving me up the bloody walls.”

“So just about healed, then.”

“Gods, I hope so! I am through babysitting,” Guydelot sniffed.

Aeryn rolled her eyes. She could see the affection shining from the bard, even if he refused to acknowledge it himself. Which meant Jehantel was still winning the bet they had running on how long before the two Serpents admitted their feelings. There were, she conceded, worse things than owing the old man the most expensive drink Buscarron had to offer.

“I would love to give you a break,” Aeryn said. “If there’s a way to reach Sanson’s quarters without getting asked a half dozen favors for the Adders.”

Guydelot grinned and threw an arm around Aeryn’s shoulder. “Well, sister, it’s your lucky day! If there’s anyone who knows how to avoid unwanted attention from the officers, it’s _me_. C’mon; let’s go bother Sanson--and leave Vorsie to sort his own problems, rather than rely on the Warrior of Light yet again.”

“Don’t call him that,” Aeryn said, as she allowed the bard to lead her back toward the Adder’s Nest.


	7. Crag

“You’re trembling,” Alisaie said as they stood to head back to Camp Overlook. Most of the activity and noise had died down; it was well after midnight.

Aeryn looked at her hands again; they were shaking slightly, though the night was warm. “Since U’Ghamaro,” she confirmed.

Did Ga Bu flinch a little just then? She peered at the kobold boy, but he seemed as unresponsive as he had been for the last several hours. It must have been her imagination. Her mind fell back to Titan’s cries of rage and grief, giving voice to the child’s pain. She thought of her own lost voice as a child, and wondered if his would ever be unburied.

“You felled Titan once again, and here we all are, safe and sound,” Alisaie said, sparing a glance at Ga Bu. “I don’t recall you being the type to feel the effects after all is said and done.”

Aeryn shook her head. “I’m not. It’s just….” She paused, unsure how to continue. “I stepped away from the crowd earlier when I realized what I was waiting for.”

“Oh?”

“My linkpearl,” Aeryn said quietly. “I keep expecting to hear it go off.”

“Not entirely unusual, though our colleagues are quite occupied with their own investigations.”

Aeryn shook her head. Gods, the wind even _smelled_ the same as it had that night.

“Aeryn?”

“I can’t help but remember the first time I fought Titan. More than that, what came later. It’s the same whenever I come out here to investigate, or disrupt his summoning. The battle itself isn’t the hard part. It’s the memory of after.”

Alisaie looked confused.

“You were off on your own by then,” Aeryn said. “Y’shtola teleported us back to the surface, and we reported to Maelstrom command. Y’shtola had some business to wrap up in Limsa, but Minfilia called me, and bid me return to the Waking Sands, as usual. In the brief time it took me to teleport to Horizon and ride through the hills to Vesper Bay, that was when the Imperials attacked. The bodies were still warm when I arrived, and Noraxia lasted long enough to trigger the Echo of her memory, showing what had happened.”

“Good gods.”

“I reunited with Alphinaud not long after that--and we’ve worked together since, really.” Aeryn shook her head. “Ifrit was terrifying on his own, and I dislike the Bowl of Embers for it. Garuda came with the terror of realizing the Ultima Weapon was functional. But...Titan is the worst. Because I always remember going home to...that, after.”

“You know it won’t be like that again,” Alisaie said, looking up at her.

“I don’t, actually. None of us do. But it is far less likely.” She sighed and shook her head. “Pray don’t mind me, Alisaie; this is an old wound, and it’s taking its time to heal. Ga Bu needs your attention more than I.”

“You’re my friend, too,” Alisaie said.

Aeryn smiled. “I know. And honestly? This talk has helped. So thank you for that.”

Alisaie nodded, uncertain. “I ought to put Ga Bu to bed--and then go that way myself. You should rest too; you more than earned it today.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Aeryn smiled, and watched until she certain Alisaie and Ga Bu were retired for the night.

For her part, she continued to watch the stars a little while longer, and wondered if there would come a day when she could face the Lord of Crags without the terrible memories that came along.


	8. Dense

“How can you stand reading that?” Zaine asked, poking his sister’s shoulder.

“It’s interesting,” Aeryn answered.

“If you say so. That’s a lot of small print with a lot of long words. Can you even pronounce half of those?”

Aeryn flicked her eyes up at him as she slowly turned the page, and nodded once.

“Just saying, kiddo, seems like awfully dense material for a little girl to be reading.”

“ _You’re_ dense,” she replied. “And I’m not little anymore.”

“Hey now!” He wrapped his arm around her neck in a faux headlock, causing her to fuss and flail. “You’re always gonna be little to me, so deal with it.” He mussed her hair.

“Ugh! Get off!” Aeryn dropped her book in her lap to shove him.

“Zaine, leave your sister be,” their stepfather said as he entered. “You ought to be helping Kai with the firewood.”

“Sorry, Papa, lost track of time,” Zaine replied, grabbing his jacket to head outside.

“Mess with Kai if you like,” Papa said as he sat and unlaced his boots. “He’s your size and about the same reading level.” He winked at Aeryn, making her giggle.

Zaine made a face, though his own grin ruined the effect. He rushed out, and Aeryn released a long breath, fixing her hair and picking her book up again.

“Don’t mind him,” Papa said. “You keep reading those heavy books, and maybe someday we can say we got a mage in the family.”

“I don’t,” Aeryn said. “‘Sides, he wants me to learn magic, too, so I can help him when he becomes an adventurer.”

Papa shook his head. “Well, we’ll see. For now, though, best put a marker in your place and get ready for supper.”

Aeryn carefully put aside her book and scampered off, leaving her stepfather to look at the book she had been reading. Something about aetherology; he couldn’t even pronounce it properly, and wondered how a girl still a few moons from thirteen fared.


	9. Coward

Aeryn blinked as the blast of energy faded. Everyone for malms around would have seen that.

The others on the team seemed well enough, the healers tending to the wounded. Aeryn walked up to the praefectus’ still form.

She found the clasps and pulled the helmet off, regretting it quickly. Beneath the metal, he was just a man. His face was scorched, eyes burnt, mouth drawn into a rictus of pain. Falling against the transmitter at the last had not been kind to his flesh, and sas Arvina was most certainly dead.

Aeryn did what she could to close what was left of his eyes. From where she crouched next to his body, she looked over at the bodies of the men who had disobeyed his last order to them--the ones who had refused to abandon the roegadyn officer to face the eikon-slayer and her team.

“Fools, the lot o’ them,” her friend Margain said as he stepped over. “It may be war, but he told them to leave.” He looked down at the unhelmed roegadyn and grimaced.

Aeryn shrugged. “They were loyal. So was he.” She stood. To a fault, perhaps, as she recalled his fanatical words of devotion to the Legatus.

“I s’pose,” the blond midlander answered with a shrug. “Couldn’t call a man of ‘em cowardly, at least.”

“They deserved better,” she said. He gave her a strange look, and it was her turn to shrug. “They were soldiers doing their duty. Same as us.” Aeryn wondered, not for the first time, how many were conscripts, and if even the volunteers had wanted to return home but never could, thanks to van Baelsar’s unauthorized personal crusade.

“If y’say so,” he replied. He put his hand to his ear as his linkpearl chirped. “We gotta go; this Operation’s far from over.”

Aeryn nodded and spared one last look at the fallen praefectus. She almost felt sorry for him, but pushed that aside. She couldn’t afford to be hesitant, not when there were at least two more tribuni between them and van Baelsar. And one of those…

Her fists clenched as she followed the others away from Cape Westwind. There would be no leniency or options given to sas Junus, not after what she had done to the Waking Sands, to the Antecedent and the Archons.

Aeryn idly wondered if Livia’s men would be as loyal as Rhitahtyn’s had been.


	10. Accolade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor Stormblood "Even Further Adventures of Hildibrand" spoilers here.

“Out of the way, ijin!” A merchant growled as he pushed his cart through the crowded street, barely giving Aeryn enough time to dodge aside. “Watch where you’re going!”

“How rude!” Hancock tutted. “Even it is a rather common scene, for you, my friend, I ought to give the man a piece of my mind--”

Aeryn shook her head. “It’s fine; I don’t mind.”

He tilted his head and considered her, though it was difficult to tell what he was thinking, behind those tinted glasses. “‘Tis not the first time you have brushed aside such offense. Or allowed yourself to be treated as any commoner, rather than a respected Scion of the Seventh Dawn and the vaunted Warrior of Light. You ought to have the ears of the nobility and wealthy--and instead you run about with Lord Manderville’s itinerant son and that ronin, between trips to the Ruby Sea or Doma.”

Aeryn was well aware Hancock thought she ought to be entertaining nobles; he had been attempting to secure an invitation to the Bugyo’s estate for moons now, despite her stated disinterest. There was a company angle he wanted to play, however, and so continued to insist on trying.

Besides, Aeryn had already seen the inside of the castle, and felt no need to go back.

“Shigure’s a good fellow,” she said, not liking the way her erstwhile shopping companion had said ‘that ronin.’

“Your most recent antics ended with him arrested.”

“...Yes, well, the inspector isn’t finished yet. It’ll be fine. Somehow.”

“A word from the esteemed Warrior of Li--”

“For gods’ sake, Hancock,” Aeryn sighed. “That title means little in Kugane, except among a very small number of people--none of them from Hingashi.”

“And you would prefer to keep it that way, would you not?”

She glanced at him; it was easy to forget how astute Hancock could be. Then again, Lolorito wasn’t one to leave fools in charge of such important posts.

Aeryn shrugged. “It’s more and more difficult to run into people in Eorzea who don’t know who I am--if not my face, then my name. I can only get away with small errands and minor adventures every once in awhile now. My own fault, I suppose,” she joked lightly. “It’s different here.”

“You enjoy the anonymity?” He seemed genuinely surprised and curious.

Aeryn nodded. “I’m just another ijin adventurer, making her way with odd jobs and small adventures, trying not to get on the Sekiseigumi’s bad side. It’s….nice. Like being a new adventurer again.”

“Before all the fame, the accolades, having the ears of the most powerful people in the land--”

“Hancock.” The desire to stuff the man into a pot bound for the Steppe was rising. She could always come up with something to tell Tataru.

“All right, all right,” he replied, waving his hands apologetically. “For now I shall concede to your wishes--but mark me, my friend, I am certain there will come a day when all Kugane knows your name.”

“By all the kami, I hope not,” Aeryn said with another sigh.

Next time, Tataru could do her own shopping.


	11. Results

“And carry the remainder over to--this can’t be right.” Aeryn frowned at the page, then looked up at Urianger. The elezen only smirked. “This should _not_ work. How?”

He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Perhaps Arcanima is not within even thy considerable talents.”

“Come on, Urianger, I have done the equations multiple times now, and I am convinced your formula doesn’t make sense. How do you do it?”

“You should show her,” Alphinaud said from the end of the table, where he was transcribing his own notes. When the Archon glanced his way, the youth grinned. “I want to see her reaction.”

Aeryn side-eyed Alphinaud. “I feel as if I am being tricked.”

Alphinaud shook his head. “Not at all, my friend; Urianger just has a rather ingenious method of solving said equations that are not quite within the standard practice.”

Urianger set a fresh page down on the table between them, and rewrote the equation Aeryn had been puzzling over for the last--good gods, three bells now. She watched him closely, but the setup did not deviate; all was copied exactly from his grimoire, laying open on the table between them. She was fairly certain it was for her benefit, as he didn’t seem to need the reference.

“Look it over, unless thou art satisfied,” Urianger said, gesturing to the completed page.

Aeryn did, even though she trusted him to be honest about magic theory. “All right, I follow to about...here...and then...No, still lost. Everything I know of magic says that result is impossible in this methodology.”

Urianger leaned over and made two simple marks on the page.

Aeryn blinked.

“That...but...you…” It was one of those solutions that seemed so _damned obvious_ and simple in retrospect, she was almost angry with herself for not having seen it. _Deceptively_ simple, she knew, looking it over and running the formula through once more; the equation made sense, but only if one was trying to solve an entirely different problem under an alternative set of rules. It really was not meant for this particular ritual.

Yet there it was, staring back at her in black and white, while her jaw hung open and Alphinaud laughed at her expression

“Ah, showed her your unique carbuncle formula?” Alisaie said as she walked up and prodded her brother. He scooted over to make room for her. “I believe Y’shtola is _still_ angry about that.”

Aeryn closed her mouth. “I can understand why.” She looked up at Urianger. “You’re a madman,” she said, smiling fondly.

“Full glad am I to have thine approval,” he replied with a bow, and a grin. “As thou said, the methodology makes such solutions impossible. Therefore, I subverted one of the core principles of the current understanding, allowing for a change in philosophical approach.”

Aeryn nodded. “But how did you decide on reversing that particular rule, that it wouldn’t just...not work, or worse, backfire on you?” She turned to study the grimoire again, reaching to turn a page.

He chuckled warmly and picked up the tome first. “Mayhap that shall be _tomorrow’s_ lesson.”


	12. Validation

“You seem troubled,” the Antecedent said. Aeryn started; she hadn’t even heard the other woman walk up.

She shook her head. “Thinking. It’s...a lot to take in.”

Minfilia smiled, warm and gentle, as they watched the sun sink over the ocean beyond Vesper Bay’s docks. “Indeed. Full well do I recall how overwhelmed I was, when I first began having visions of the past, hearing the whispers of others’ souls. But then, Thancred introduced me to Master Louisoix--through letters, at first, and he taught me so much. And what he did not know, we figured out together.” She turned her gaze to Aeryn. “I will gladly share that understanding with you, though I will not be surprised if your talents differ from mine; ‘tis not uncommon.”

Aeryn nodded once. “I am just happy to have answers. Since returning to Eorzea, it’s been...surreal.”

“Not the homecoming you expected, I take it?”

“Visions of the Mothercrystal, glimpses of strangers’ pasts, this,” Aeryn stared down at the deep blue crystal in her hand. It shimmered in the same way as the water below her feet, the light within it drifting like the waves as the tide changed. It was warm and comfortable in her palm, even as she sensed the vibration of power pulsing within. She looked at Minfilia. “I thought...I thought I might be going mad.”

Empathy shone in those bright eyes. “I know,” Minfilia simply replied.

For a moment, they were silent, watching as the sky turned gold and pink, the ocean mirroring the light and the shifting colors. A few of the brighter stars were faintly visible, as was the faded outline of the now-singular moon.

“Even if you do not choose to join our cause,” Minfilia said, carefully. “I do hope you’ll keep in touch. If only so we may explore this gift--and burden--we have been granted. There are others, of course, but…” Her eyes settled on the crystal Aeryn still held. “Few of such strength, or direct connection to the Mother Herself.”

Aeryn nodded. She had tried asking the youth Arenvald about his own experiences with the Echo, but while his description seemed similar on the surface, there was more that did not match. He did not seem the type to leave things out--he was too eager to please, too good-natured. While he might have had a rough life before joining the Scions, he was far too honest and optimistic to hold back or lie to another who shared such a rare talent.

Minfilia, on the other hand...there was a shrewdness beneath the smiles, practice at holding back, even lying, to protect herself and others she was close to. Yet, her idealism did not seem to be an act, nor her care for others and the realm, her determination, and her concern--all whispered threads throughout her emotions. All of that Aeryn could vaguely sense, in this moment of quiet camaraderie.

“It’s...nice to be understood,” Aeryn whispered.

Minfilia seemed pleased, and there was that sense of empathy once again. “It will cool off quickly, once the sun is fully set,” she said. “I believe I shall go back inside. Again, you may stay as long as needed; we have plenty of room. And it will be good for you to get a feel for our organization, and the people you may work with, should you choose to join us fully.”

“I’ll have an answer for you soon,” Aeryn said. She was only a little surprised that she meant it. While her initial instinct had been to run--Momodi’s warning probably hadn’t helped--the fact these people not only believed in her visions but understood them, had piqued her interest. It also did much to soothe her own fears for what she had been experiencing since returning to the realm of her birth.

Especially after so many others had dismissed her collapses as mere aether sickness. Aeryn had almost believed them, if not for the crystal resting in her palm.

“I look forward to it,” Minfilia said warmly, meaning it. She stepped away from the low harbor wall, back into the lazy bustle of Vesper Bay at sundown, as merchants and sailors tried to get last minute work done before full dark. Aeryn watched until the Antecedent vanished around a corner.

There wasn’t a cruel or unkind bone in that woman’s body, Aeryn decided. But there was steel beneath the silk, rarely drawn upon though it may be--mostly to prop against the incursion of others’ memories and emotions, to maintain sanity in the face of too-real visions of the Crystal.

She understood.

Aeryn remained at the wall, watching the sea, until darkness fell fully upon Thanalan, the stars glimmering like countless candles in the dark. She tucked her crystal safely away and returned to the Waking Sands.


	13. Plateau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing graphic, but there is an injured griffin and some combat.

Her griffin jerked and screeched, nearly bucking her off its back mid-flight. It dove for the nearest surface, a plateau just west of Qalyana Nilya. As they crashed to the ground, Aeryn leapt and rolled, clearing the beast as it flailed. She managed to land in a crouch, looking for the griffin.

It was cawing and growling pitifully, arrows through a wing. She cursed herself for flying so close to the Qalyana settlement; a stupid risk, and now her borrowed mount was paying the price for her recklessness.

She hurried over, soothing the creature, trying to get close enough to remove the arrows and cast a Cure, when the tell-tale sound of scales slithering over sand and stone caught her ear, through the pained noise of the griffin. It shrieked a warning as she dodged another volley of arrows, drawing her rapier and whirling to meet the sword of the ananta charging her.

The magic focus clicked onto the pommel of her sword, and through it she channeled aether into levin to strike her foe, following that with a call to the elements, drawing the wind to pummel the hissing woman. Aeryn spun her blade and parried the slash of the scimitar, slicing through the Qalyana’s defenses with a riposte.

Another arrow whirred past, scraping her shoulder and tearing her jacket. The griffin screamed again, this time in rage. It attacked the archer, its talons and uninjured wing serving as more than distracting.

Aeryn flipped away from her enemy, tossing another bolt of lightning. She felt the familiar shift of aether, the heat rising to unbearable levels. She relieved the sudden pressure by flinging the fire at the ananta. The ananta shrieked as she fell, her voice falling to a moan of pain.

The archer cried out in response to her sister’s defeat, even as aether bloomed into a crimson flower around her, and then imploded. She raised her bow again, ducking away from the griffin’s snapping beak. She was not expecting the stones to answer Aeryn’s plea, rising up and battering the archer until she too lay on the ground, whimpering.

Aeryn took a moment to catch her breath, then whistled for the griffin before it could hurt the ananta further. It hobbled over, becoming aware of its own pain again. She kept an eye on the Qalyana as she removed the arrows and cast her Cure spell.

She debated healing the ananta as well, but any movement closer was greeted with hateful hissing. If they lived through their injuries, they would be scarred without proper healing; perhaps, to these Dreamers, death was preferable than disfigurement.

She was utterly drained by the time the griffin was able to fly again. Sparing one last look at the pair of snakes as she mounted, Aeryn sighed and flicked the reins. The griffin lifted into the air, a bit unsteady and slower than she would have liked, but at least it was able to fly at all, away from the Qalyana’s territory.

They landed on another plateau a few malms away, the griffin needing a rest before they could return to Castellum Velodyna. The sun was setting, bathing the land in gold as it slipped behind Baelsar’s Wall. It would be cold, but she could camp here, let the griffin rest and heal further, and enjoy the nighttime air.

Camp was made, a small fire started, camp rations eaten. Aeryn leaned against the griffin’s uninjured side. “Any crash you can walk--or fly--away from,” she said to herself.

The griffin twitched at the unexpected sound of her voice, before settling back in to sleep.


	14. Bond

Preparations were back on track and Falcon’s Nest was a flurry of activity--if more cautious than before. Even so, Aeryn couldn’t help but feel more optimistic this time.

Also, rather sore from the tournament. She winced as she stepped aside too quickly to avoid a rushing vendor. At least no one was asking her to help this time.

Still, the crowd was getting to be a bit much, and she was starting to feel overwhelmed. She made her way out of town, heading for the nearby bluffs overlooking the square, so she could keep watching and waiting from a less crowded distance, but still on hand if…

Well, if anything else happened.

She was passing through a copse of pines when she decided she was most definitely being watched, since at least the time she had left the village. She did stand out, in her long red coat against the snow, but there was an intelligence to the sensation that led her to think it wasn’t an overly ambitious wolf stalking her across the plains and into the woodline.

Aeryn stopped; she knew some of her colleagues were around, also making sure things ran smoothly and witnessing the coming event their actions had helped orchestrate. “Hello? I know you’re there,” she said, only slightly louder than conversational level.

“I’d be rather surprised if you didn’t,” a voice she had not expected said from the treeline behind her.

Aeryn whirled, drawing her blade and magic focus as the Warrior of Darkness stepped into the clearing. His massive axe remained on his back, however, and he held his hands up. “Truce; I’m not here to fight today.”

“I can’t imagine you’re here for the conference,” she said dryly.

He shrugged. “It does look interesting. Fine bit of work, ending a thousand year war.”

She frowned as the familiar heartaches surged briefly. “It...came at great costs.”

“These things always do,” he replied. She could sense that he did mean it, that he understood.

It also meant he wasn’t closing himself off this time, not like in Loth ast Gnath, after the initial rush of memories.

“What do you want?” She asked quietly.

He didn’t answer for a long moment. “You find it as hard to look at me straight on as I do you, I think. You expect to see someone else, someone lost long ago but the similarities are enough to bring back the ache. Am I right?”

She did look at him now, eyes wide, sword arm falling to her side, the point of her rapier piercing the snow. His eyes were bluer, his hair a slightly different shade, and he wore that scruff on his chin--but the similarity had gnawed at her since they had met.

“I forgot him,” she said. “Not entirely, but...I couldn’t remember properly, after the Calamity. No one could. I didn’t even recall his name until after…”

After the Praetorium, after defeating Ultima and driving Lahabrea from his stolen body. Then, everyone remembered.

“Anyroad,” she said, clearing her throat. “My brother Zaine was...like you, by all accounts. An adventurer who found himself a champion. But now he’s gone, along with all his friends, and it’s just...me, and mine.”

The Warrior laughed, bitterly. That trait seemed to define him, she thought. “Sounds about right. You remind me of my sister; I became an adventurer because of her, too. She didn’t go missing, though. Just…” His face crumbled briefly, and he shook his head. “Funny, isn’t it? But I suppose, if our worlds are reflections of one another, mayhap we’re just reflections of each other. Wouldn’t that be a laugh.”

“Not especially.”

He grunted an agreement, arms crossed. “I ought to go. Can’t be fraternizing when we’re meant to be opposed,” he said, sarcasm tinging the words. “I just...I don’t know. I suppose I wanted to see that you aren’t really her. And any similarities won’t make a difference in the end.”

“Why do we have to be opposed?”

He seemed to consider answering, then shook his head and turned away. “Your friend with the daggers was skulking about; I don’t intend to get caught up by him again. Farewell for now, Warrior of Light.”

“Aeryn,” she said. He paused and looked back at her, frowning. “My name’s Aeryn.”

“...I’m called Arbert,” he replied after an awkward pause. “Wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“So do I,” Aeryn said. He would know she meant it.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he tromped back into the trees, his black armor blending in surprisingly quickly, and soon even his footsteps faded, leaving her in cold, lonely silence.

Aeryn shivered and sheathed her blade, snagging her floating mana focus and hooking it back to her belt.

Fate had bound her to these Warriors of Darkness in some manner already; she was not yet sure of their role, or their endgame, nor why they felt the need to fight, but she could be patient. This extra connection to her apparent counterpart, however, just seemed...cruel.

Not that fate cared one way or another about such things as fairness or cruelty.

Aeryn sucked in a deep breath of sharp, cold air, and continued on her path.

She had naught to fear from Arbert today.


	15. Without a Trace

The letters were returned with with apologetic scribbles and stamps about “unable to find recipient”, “no such recipient”, or simply “unknown.”

Asking traders and adventurers from Eorzea met with shrugs and confused head scratching. “Never heard of him” or “Sorry, dunno anyone who matches that description” was common to hear, which seemed strange considering all her brother and his friends had been caught up in, before the Meteor.

It was worse when Aeryn finally went to Eorzea herself. She went to places described in previous letters, the ones he had sent her prior to the Calamity. She met people he had told her about. Occasionally, someone would mention that she reminded them of someone, but they couldn’t recall who.

She didn’t realize she wasn’t asking about him, or even using his name. Not until after Ultima.

_Then_ she remembered Zaine’s face, descriptions of his adventures, his friends and the other people he had met along the way. The Circle and Path she now knew as the Scions; the leaders of the Alliance, no longer as fractured. She remembered his _name_.

It took following the twins malms underground, deep into the Coils and the truth of the Calamity, to realize why she had never found him.

Would never find him.

On his nameday, Aeryn made her way through the snows of Coerthas. The remnants of their village were long gone between the Horde and the Calamity, and so she continued west across Boulder Downs and into the cave where the Fury’s Mark hung in frozen silence.

The glimmering blue and white of the icy cavern reminded Aeryn of her visions of Hydaelyn.

Even if his body was lost, nothing was truly ever gone completely. A trace of his soul must remain somewhere, perhaps caught in the rush of the Lifestream, or in the Mother’s own Light.

Aeryn prayed.


	16. Marked

“What?” Yda--no, _Lyse_ asked.

Aeryn started; she hadn’t realized she had been staring, nor that she had been _caught_ staring. She shook her head, waved a hand, face apologetic. Lyse knew it meant ‘sorry, it’s nothing.’ Aeryn collected her dishes and started to get up from the table.

Lyse made a frustrated sound. “Aeryn, please--I know you’re angry, but...can’t you just _talk_ to me?”

Aeryn paused. “I...I’m not...angry, really…” She looked around; this side of the Rising Stones was empty, everyone else either out, or on the other side, exercising and sparring, or finishing preparations. Word from the Alliance would come any day now.

Lyse had come sit down at her table, as she often did when Aeryn was reading over tea. She had not been as distracting as usual, though, keeping to her own cup.

“Then what? I know I lied. That I didn’t tell you the whole truth. You _should_ be angry with me.”

“No. More…” Aeryn sat back down, unsure. “Hurt. Sad. Disappointed, maybe.”

Lyse flinched. A nasty little voice in Aeryn’s mind said good; she deserved it. Another voice argued no; that wasn’t fair.

“I...sort of understand. I want to, at least,” Aeryn said.

“How do you mean?” Lyse asked. It was strange, but nice, seeing those bright blue eyes without the mask’s filtering.

“When I came to Eorzea, I was looking for my brother. I...I think I always knew I wasn’t going to find him, but I didn’t want to admit that. Not out loud, or even just to myself. I had held onto that hope for so long, and after Mother...I didn’t want to face the truth that I had lost him, too.”

Lyse smiled tentatively. “Be a little harder for you to pretend to be Zaine, maybe.”

“Nah. The right gear, the proper application of glamours, that swagger he used to do when trying too hard to be impressive…” Aeryn took a moment to mock-demonstrate, and they both fell into their usual giggles.

“I just...I don’t want this to ruin our friendship,” Lyse said as they sobered again. “It means a lot to me. _You_ mean a lot to me.”

“I don’t want it to, either,” Aeryn answered, when she realized she had been silent perhaps a tick too long. “I simply need time to adjust. I may slip and call you Yda still, from time to time.”

“That’s all right. I mean, I got so used to answering to that, I’ve almost forgotten how to respond to my own name.” Her blonde brows drew together in thought. “You don’t think I was a...coward, for taking on her identity, instead of making my own. Do you?”

“No; it never even crossed my mind. Why?”

“Just...It was easy, a lot of times, being her. Or, I guess, what I thought of as her. If I couldn’t think of something, I simply imagined what she might do--or just asked Papalymo, he usually came up with all the ideas anyway. All I had to do was follow his lead.”

And now he was gone, too. In a way, Aeryn had followed Papalymo’s lead as well, right into the Scions, after those early days in Gridania.

Aeryn looked up at Lyse again. “Maybe, in imagining what you thought Yda would say or do, coming up with that version of her in your head, you really were imagining a version of yourself, who you wanted to learn to be. I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“I think I understand where you’re meaning to go, anyroad,” Lyse said, tapping her knuckles on her chin. Her new gloves covered much of the scarring and knobbiness of her pugilist’s hands, offering protection from more damage while reinforcing her already powerful punches. Tataru had outdone herself on that score. “What were you looking at?”

Aeryn raised a brow.

“You were staring, a bit ago.”

“Oh. Um. Your neck. It’s...strange, not seeing the Sage Marks there.” She hesitated. “I saw them fade, when we were in Omega Control, but it didn’t seem a good time to ask.”

Lyse looked down at her half-full teacup. “Papalymo gave them to me, when it became clear I meant to be Yda. I think he spoke to Master Louisoix, even. He didn’t want to, but he did it. Sometimes I think I still feel them there, but when I reach up, or look in a mirror, they’re just...gone. But even that’s like a reminder, you know?”

Aeryn nodded. “I understand,” she said simply.

“I’ll take your teacup to the kitchen,” Lyse offered, picking up her own. “Thank you, Aeryn. For...not being mad. For still being my friend.”

“Always, Lyse.” Aeryn smiled, and meant it, and it felt good. Lyse returned the smile brightly, and then walked to the kitchen, her long hair swaying free.

Aeryn touched the place on her stomach where Papalymo’s spell had struck and lifted her to the airship. The skin still tingled under her clothes, but she knew when she looked later, there would be no scar.

Like Lyse’s vanished tattoos, the marks the thaumaturge had left behind were not physical.


	17. Gelid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gelid: very cold; icy.

It looked nothing like her memories.

She had known, of course, that Coerthas had been severely affected by the Calamity, the wind and ice elements of Abalathia’s Spine running rampant across the once lush meadows and wooded glens.

Still, she somehow had not expected the frosty path leading out of the hills and toward the Observatorium, floes of ice on the dark river to their left, the whistling wind cutting through clothes that had seemed too heavy for the Shroud, now malms behind them.

Aeryn pulled a cloak out of her pack, and after a moment’s consideration, offered it to Alphinaud. The boy shook his head, though his teeth chattered, and continued on. She sighed, and exchanged amused looks with Cid; their young companion was proud and stubborn.

The sun glimmered through frosted trees and over the snow-covered landscape. Aeryn caught glimpses of skinny wolves watching from the treeline, and urged her chocobo to move a little faster. Night would come sooner than she liked, the sun already slipping lower in the west. They needed to get to the Observatorium.

They could see the tower as soon as they came out of the hills, tall and dark grey against the lighter grey sky. A snowstorm was coming from the east; Aeryn could taste it in the air. She tried to take in a deep breath, and her nostrils almost stuck together, her nose was so cold. She needed a scarf.

A few bells later, just as the clouds overtook the gold-pinks of sunset and the first flurries began to fall, they saw the walls of the Observatorium loom in the distance. Cid looked at the trees and kicked his chocobo into a canter, Alphinaud and Aeryn’s birds following.

Icicles hung off any and all available overhangs, no matter how small or narrow. Snow caked in the cracks in the walls, and the iron gates gleamed with a coating of frost. Pink-cheeked Durendaire guards hailed them, breath visibly curling with their words. The glow of the lanterns and hearth in the single tavern seemed much brighter and warmer against the whites, greys, and silvers as night fell, the wind picking up into a howl to match that of the wolves beyond the walls, the snow coming down in wet chunks the size of Aeryn’s palm.

A man took their birds at the stables, giving the trio a chilly eye before turning to coo at the shivering chocobos.

The tavern was still cool enough that many still wore their outside clothes, but there was no wind or precipitation. The woman behind the bar sounded as cold as the river when she took their orders, her sister as hard as the frozen stone walls as she handed them room keys.

Aeryn didn’t even have to glance around, as she caught Alphinaud doing once or twice surreptitiously, his calculating gaze taking in the locals. With the Echo, she could feel their suspicion--even hostility. It was even worse than some of the more isolationist Gridanians had made her feel.

Lacking a House affiliation--she didn’t even remember which, if any, of Ishgard’s lords her old village owed fealty toward--or obvious sigils of Halonic worship on their persons, they were marked as outsiders. Aeryn doubted any would remember a Striker from a long-abandoned village on the southern border with the Twelveswood. The reception she received was as cold as her Sharlayan and Garlean companions.

Welcome home, indeed.


	18. Two Birds with One Stone

“That’s a long drop,” Alphinaud observed. “But there is definitely something down there.”

Aeryn nodded in agreement as they cautiously peered over the edge of the chasm. Far below, they could see what seemed to be dragon bones, and something else fallen among them. The fog and snow fall was making it difficult to see clearly from here, however.

“Hrm. There does seem to be a way down, but...Oh! Are you not training with Ser Alberic?”

Aeryn looked at Alphinaud warily.

The youth grinned. “You could put some of those new dragoon skills to practice, by jumping down to investigate, and then jump back up here to me!”

Aeryn opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, dark brows drawing together in thought. There was no logical reason such a plan should not work, considering how other dragoons leapt about the snowy ridges and valleys. And they really did need to see what was down there, if they wanted to get this Inquisitor off their backs.

“I really want to see if you can do it,” Alphinaud continued idly.

Aeryn narrowed her eyes and drew out the deep blue soul crystal, focusing on it and the slithering whispers it woke in her mind. “The dragon within” Alberic called it. She wondered why that wasn’t considered heretical--or perhaps it was, and the dragoons simply didn’t advertise that aspect of their training when clergy and inquisitors were present.

She drew her lance, and with a flip--might as well show off a little, why not--she dove into the chasm, landing hard in a crouch. Few mentioned how rough the leaps were on one’s ankles and knees, though Alberic was also teaching her stretches and exercises to deal with that, and she had a Cure spell handy.

Aeryn prodded the frozen corpse, frowning at the familiar face, noting his robes, and finding more than a little damning evidence. She tucked it into her pack and looked up. Alphinaud was a small speck of white and blue amidst other shades of white and blue, peering down at her.

Aeryn crouched slightly, and sprang upward, feeling the strength of wings in her limbs and a dull roar in her pulse.

She landed with a light bounce next to Alphinaud, who beamed. “Excellent! I am certain Ser Alberic will be most pleased as well. Now, shall we see what you have discovered about our Inquisitor…”


	19. Repast

“Not the most glorious repast, but it’ll do,” Thancred said, tossing one of the field ration packs to Aeryn. “I know I’ve eaten far worse.”

She nodded in agreement as she caught it, though did not break it open right away. Instead, she looked out over the water of Silvertear glistening in the sunlight, the Keeper’s shadow drawn under itself beneath the noon sun.

“Not hungry?” He asked, already started on his own lunch. “Here I thought fighting gigas would promote an appetite.” It was the Scions’ turn this week to ensure the safety of Revenant’s Toll with patrols of the eastern fields between the town and the Singing Shards. Thancred and Aeryn had drawn the short straws this time. The morning had been rather more exciting than they had expected, after stumbling on a hunting party of giants.

“I am, just...enjoying being back in Mor Dhona, strange as it sounds.”

“Certainly warmer,” Thancred agreed. “Though Coerthas is not so far away, really, even by chocobo.”

Aeryn only nodded again, and began to eat.

“Particularly if one wanted to go visiting,” he continued. He kept his tone casual, but she flicked her eyes in his direction.

“Missing the Watch?” Aeryn asked dryly. “Or just Hilda?”

“They are a fun lot, and more my type than the Temple Knights,” he replied smoothly, ignoring the jab. “Though you seemed to get along with them just fine. Particularly their Lord Commander.”

Aeryn shrugged. “Aymeric’s a friend, and we went through...a lot.”

“Indeed,” Thancred said. “I never did apologize for interrupting your dinner date.”

“Not your fault, and Alisaie lived, so it’s a win.”

“True. Still, I know Ser Aymeric was disappointed; he seemed to quite enjoy the time. Until said interruption, anyway.”

“It was a nice evening--until that point, yes. He does need to take more time for himself, though.”

“Any plans to help with that?”

Aeryn looked at him strangely. “While it’d be nice to go adventuring with him--he’s good in a fight--we both have our own duties. Besides, Lucia and Handeloup are his keepers, not I,” she joked.

“I was just saying, he seemed like he might prefer your company to theirs.”

She frowned in confusion as she finished her food. “Because I’m a friend and not a subordinate?”

Thancred wasn’t sure if he ought to laugh or sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. For as brilliant as she was in many things, in certain others, their dear Warrior of Light was woefully dense. He sometimes forgot that.

Then again, it had somewhat salved his ego to learn his own lighthearted flirtations when they had first met--gods, that felt like forever ago now--had not been purposefully ignored; she was just utterly oblivious, unless one was blatant. Which, certain excruciatingly proper knights seemed incapable of, at least to the level Aeryn required.

Ah well; Borel could get over it, as others had.

“Nevermind,” Thancred said, stuffing away the remnants of his own meal. “Not sure where I was going with that, and we need to get back to work.”

“Your idea of small talk is always so...weird,” she noted as she stood.

“Thank you,” he replied, knowing he was running the risk of her asking Yda about the conversation later, now that the pugilist had returned to the Stones. “Shall we?”

Aeryn nodded, and the two Scions continued with their task.


	20. Alms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alms: money, food, or other donations given to the poor or needy; anything given as charity.

“I won’t beg,” Mother said through clenched teeth. “You know I’ll pay you back when I can--”

The man behind the counter shook his head. “I am sorry, Emelia, but you know I cannot give that much in credit. The church has offered to help those displaced in the recent attacks, they should be able to help you get back on your feet--”

“The church,” Mother spat. “Those misers will give just enough that my children will be beggars before I can get passage from this gods forsaken realm.”

“Careful, Emelia,” the man said in a low, urgent voice now. “You’re already watched by too many; being accused of heresy won’t help you, or your children.”

Aeryn watched her mother tilt her head back, eyes closed as she took deliberate breath. Her fists clenched and unclenched. She was probably counting to herself.

“I know, all right, _I know_ ,” Mother said quietly. “I’m ‘a foreign witch who seduced a nice Halonic boy into marrying her.’ But he’s gone now, and I just want to take my children home, where the skies are _safe_.”

The man tapped his chin a few times. “I can see what I can do but I make no promises. Speak to the priest at the parish meantime, and consider swallowing your pride--for _their_ sakes, if you mean to get them out of Coerthas,” he said, looking down at Aeryn.

She only stared back at him, until he looked away again.

“Come along, Aeryn,” Mother said. “We should find your brother.”

Aeryn put her hand in Mother’s and walked alongside her, her shorter stride forcing Mother to slow her own angry walk to a normal pace.

They found Zaine outside the chapel, speaking with a woman in long, white robes. He looked up and beamed. “Mama! The priestess says we can sleep here for no money, since the inn’s so ‘spensive.”

Mother stopped and blinked. “That...that isn’t necessary, we can get rooms at the inn--”

“For more gil than necessary,” the robed woman said. “After losing your home? And you’re trying to get passage?”

Mother glowered at Zaine. “Did you share all of our business with this stranger?”

He frowned back. “She’s not a stranger, she’s a priest. And I...I wanted to talk to someone.” He glanced at Aeryn briefly, but then looked back to Mother, his expression now defiant. “I wanted to find a way to help.”

Mother’s hand clenched again around Aeryn’s. She could feel Mother trembling, but it felt like the anger wasn’t what was causing it. “I’m _not_ a beggar,” she whispered fiercely. “I can’t--I…”

The priestess smiled, eyes soft. “No; you’re a woman who’s suffered a tragedy. Who has children to care for, but must needs get back on her feet to do so. Needing a little help to get there is no shameful thing.”

Mother’s hand clenched Aeryn’s almost painfully now, and the trembling was worse. Aeryn wrapped her arms around Mother’s legs and hugged her tightly.

Mother made a strange sound, letting go of Aeryn’s hand. She dropped to her knees to hug Aeryn back, squeezing her, and then the trembling became shakes as Mother finally broke into tears.

It was the first time she had, since what had happened to the village, and Father.

Zaine rushed over and joined the hug, patting Mother’s back as he had seen Father do whenever she allowed herself to show how upset she was. “It’ll be all right, Mama,” he said. “We’ll get there.”


	21. Undertone

There was something she did not like about that man.

Perhaps it was the way he used his Garlean names and titles, while ostensibly promoting peace between the empire and the nation of his birth. Perhaps it was his exaggerated politeness and flattering smiles, while not showing a hint of the obeisance to Lord Hien that every other Doman expressed in even the smallest motion. Perhaps it was the way he asked after Yotsuyu, as a concerned brother, when all of them were well aware of the history--when Aeryn had _experienced_ it, in the memory of a now-dead Imperial spy.

Something wasn’t right, something she couldn’t put a finger on, nor explain, but she trusted her instincts, even without the whispers of the Echo.

Back in the Kienkan, Hien turned to her. “In the time I’ve known you, you have always been an excellent judge of character. What do you make of the ambassador?”

Aeryn considered, eyes flicking to the twins. Alisaie was pleased by Asahi’s defense of Isse and Azami--and it _was_ a relief to have them safe--but Alphinaud was watching Aeryn with his own shrewd gaze, a shadow in his eyes she knew well but had not seen in moons.

She realized he had not given his own opinion on the ambassador, not in their hearing; he had not spent time with the man as they had, true, but Aeryn also knew Alphinaud did not trust his own instincts in these situations. That he would reserve judgment to what he could see, and defer to Aeryn in these matters.

_‘Damn you, Ilberd,’_ she thought for the umpteenth time. There was so much to never forgive that man for, and despite his other crimes, breaking Alphinaud’s trust in people was high on Aeryn’s list.

But then, Alphinaud wasn’t the only one with trust issues now.

She looked at Hien. “The Red are not common bandits, and wouldn’t come so far inland without good cause, let alone harass random passers-by; their motives relate to their treasures. Perhaps it’s simply the ambassador’s assumption, and not understanding how the Kojin think, only knowing they were hired by the Garleans as mercenaries.” She hesitated, and Hien waited. “There’s something about him that puts me off. I still don’t think he can be trusted.”

Hien nodded. He and the twins continued the discussion, allowing Aeryn to go back to her customary silence, watching and listening.

When negotiations resumed, she was lost in her own thoughts until she heard the word “dango.” Her eyes snapped up, between Asahi and Hien, focusing again on what was before her eyes, not the undercurrents she felt.

_‘Don’t let him see her,’_ she wanted to say, though it was Lord Hien’s decision to make. Tsuyu might have a bad reaction to any memories evoked by Asahi’s face. She might remember being Yotsuyu. On the one hand, that would make this so much simpler on everyone. On the other...did the girl deserve it? Did Gosetsu?

_‘Or is it that I just don’t trust Asahi?’_

When and how had this become so bloody complicated?

It became less complicated when they said goodbye to their erstwhile guests. When Asahi pulled her aside and his face twisted into something wild, even as he called her a savage. The memory was intense; the battlefield sounds and smells were familiar, but the rush of Asahi’s emotions for Zenos left her feeling faint and a bit ill, hardly able to focus on the rest of his words before he turned away, his placid mask back in place as he mouthed his formal goodbyes and left upon the airship with his true countrymen.

At least now she knew what had been nagging at her from the background this entire time. Now she knew her distrust was earned.


	22. Not a Weapon

The mood was high, the crowds noisy, the air still full of smoke but also streamers and the feathers of excited yols and griffins.

There was still so much work to do, but she was so godsdamned tired.

It was several bells before they made it from the city, to the command post in Porta Praetoria, and then, finally, back to Rhalgr’s Reach for Lyse’s not-unexpected announcement to the gathered Scions.

The entire time, Zenos’ words repeated in Aeryn’s head, dissonant and scratchy. Her stomach roiled and she felt angry heat at his claims of any sort of similarity between them. Then she felt cold, as unbidden the Archbishop’s broken demand echoed in her head once again.

_**What are you?** _

_‘Tired,’_ she wanted to reply, as she tried to find the little monk’s cell she stayed in while at the Reach, now that she finally had a moment.

“Hey kupo!”

Aeryn jumped, not expecting the pink fluffball that popped in front of her. The postmoogle waved brightly. “Everyone sure is excited! Plenty of food and drink to go around already, I see. Not that I’ve been partaking yet, of course, I have a job to do. And here you are!”

Aeryn just blinked at him, barely comprehending what he was saying.

“Maybe you’ve already been partaking a bit yourself already, eh, kupo? Not that it’s my place to judge! Just deliver your mail. You have a letter! A long one too, by the weight of it.” And indeed, a thick envelope was held out to her in one chubby, pink paw.

“Thank you,” Aeryn managed quietly, taking the envelope.

“You’re welcome! Hey, if you get bored liberating cities or whatever, we could always use your help again. The realm’s so much bigger now than it used to be! Wish I could stay and chat more, kupo, but gotta fly!” He waved goodbye and then took off, winding his way past oblivious soldiers while startling some griffins for fun, before passing out of the gates.

Aeryn just stared after him for a time, before continuing on her way. The envelope felt solid in her hand, an anchor to cling to as she found her borrowed room and stepped inside past the heavy drape that served as a door.

She sat on the low stone shelf by the only window, looking at the envelope. Her eldest stepsister’s familiar, flowing script neatly spelled out Aeryn’s name and other pertinent information the moogles had used to find her. She carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the multiple sheets of paper, noting many contained not words, but crude children’s sketches and brightly colored paintings, the paper slightly stiff from overapplication and subsequent drying.

> _Dearest Aeryn,_
> 
> _We pray you remain healthy and as safe as you are able in your current tasks. I know you don’t want us to dwell on such concerns, but know you and yours are in our thoughts. To that end, your nieces and nephews have sent some pictures to brighten your day, and as gifts for your friends, assuming they’re amenable. I don’t know how they’ll compare to Eorzean art, but I think they’re rather charming!_
> 
> _To catch you up from my last letter, Papa’s feeling much better, and says to thank your conjurer friend for the suggestions. Perhaps one of these days he’ll feel his age and slow down, but he’s quite active yet. Meanwhile, our dear Kai has gotten himself involved in some new scheme that he assures me isn’t going to backfire this time for sure…_

Aeryn was soon laughing at the antics of her far-off family, told in her stepsister’s simple, droll writing, and accompanied by silly pictures from her step-siblings’ various small children, their easily-remembered voices drowning out those other, more recent ones.

Unlike previous art sent, there were no messy depictions of Aeryn, the Hero of Eorzea. This time there were ambitious attempts at the caravan, various animals seen, family portraits, and one imaginative piece from one of the older children, of all of the young cousins gathered around Aeryn, messy handwriting exclaiming “we miss you!”

She sighed happily and realized she wasn’t so tired after all. Not too tired, in any case, to not hunt down her fellow Scions and show them the art of themselves based solely on her written descriptions and the active imaginations of children malms away. It wouldn’t be the first time she had subjected her colleagues to her distant family’s stories and art.


	23. Fling (Weight of Light)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Aeryn's timeline, class and job quests are done at varying points throughout the MSQ, and she meets X'rhun Tia just after the Waking Sands massacre.

She gasped at the weight of the spell. The concept of light being _heavy_ had never occurred to her, but drawing on the aether and coalescing it felt so solid.

And now she held a miniature storm in her hand.

X’rhun chuckled, his tail lashing with delight as he watched his new student. “Excellent work; you’re a natural.”

She smiled back shyly. Jehantel had said the same when she studied with him while working in the Twelveswood; Lucianne and Ywain before him, too (even if the lancer was far less vocal in his praise). Aeryn just seemed to learn quickly, and tended to study and practice hard once a new interest caught her eye.

The wind picked up and X’rhun turned his face to meet it, inhaling deeply. “A true storm is on the way; we ought to return to the church, lest Father Iliud grow worried.” He gestured to the light in her palm. “You’ll want to discharge that; say, into that tree over there?”

She nodded, eyeing the ball of levin crackling around her hand, and then across the yalms of sandy scrub brushes to the tree he indicated. She drew her arm back and flung the lightning, feeling her hair stand up as the static crackled--missing the tree by several fulms and vanishing over the hill. Aeryn sighed.

X’rhun laughed. “Well, that is something we shall have to practice, isn’t it?” She looked up and found herself laughing as well.

It was hard not to; despite the creased, craggy brow that could leave an impression of perpetual scowling, X’rhun was one of the _kindest_ people she had ever known. Smiles and laughter came easily to the man, and he shared them generously with any and all that he met.

It almost made it easy to overlook the shadows of old pain in his eyes. The way he had looked at Aeryn as she had returned from Azeyma’s marker in a way that whispered to her Echo-senses as _I understand_.

He had spoken only a little of the loss of his fellow Crimson Duelists, but enough that she knew that he did empathize with her grief over the Waking Sands.

What she truly wanted to learn from him--besides how to properly sling spells, anyroad, now that magic seemed to be welling out of her since her return to Eorzea--was how he never let such pain weigh him down; how he kept those easy smiles and quick laughs, that genuine kindness and sincere desire to help others.

That seemed to be the far more important lesson.


	24. Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This mixes a friend's headcanon with Fordola's fate given in "Tales from the Storm" official short stories.

“Bugger!” Fordola swore, clutching her head. The visions were no easier this time around, as she experienced the inside of an abandoned Castrum, remembered a Doman woman taking the power of a primal, the snake of an ambassador firing his gun. Fordola lived Aeryn’s rage...and her grief? Compassion for that witch?

Or maybe just the old, broken roegadyn who did openly mourn what could have been…

“Here,” Arenvald’s voice broke through the fading images and sensation. She realized he was holding something, trying to give it to her.

“What is it?” Fordola growled.

“The Walker’s Special,” he replied, his tone suggesting the name was a joke. “Something Miss F’lhaminn came up with for just this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” She snarled.

“Walking in the Warrior of Light’s memories,” he responded, more blunt than she was accustomed to hearing from him. “She’s been through a lot, and it can be...rough. I’m sorry, I should have thought of it the first time she came to see you, back in your cell.”

Fordola stared at the potion bottle for a moment, then finally took it, yanking off the cork and chugging it. “Tastes like piss,” she lied, just to see him frown.

“F’lhaminn and Higiri worked hard to make it not taste bad. Partly to hide the kick.”

He wasn’t kidding; she could already feel the effects. “Wha…?”

“You might want to take a nap,” he admitted. “But on the plus side, you won’t dream about what you just saw.”

“We have a swiving primal to kill--”

“There’s time,” he interrupted, and she realized he was drinking from his own flask. “The sergeant’ll wake us when the squad’s ready for us to play with Garuda. The buzz won’t last overlong.”

It felt like the next eyeblink, when Fordola felt someone shaking her shoulder. Her reflexes snapped up to grab whoever dared touch her, but caught only air.

“Go time,” Aeryn’s quiet voice said as Fordola’s eyes focused. She was surprised there was no headache, or bleariness; if anything, she felt more clear-headed than she had since…

Well, since she’d woken up in the Resonatorium after Asina had gotten through with her.

Aeryn watched, head tilted, that faint and outright irritating quizzical look on her face. “Arenvald introduced you to the Scions’ favorite potion?” She asked lightly.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Fordola replied. She paused, then said, “It did help though.”

Aeryn nodded. “I’m sorry it’s necessary,” she said, and Fordola believed her.

She’d seen enough to know the Eikon-slayer was a sincere woman.

And now here she was; Aeryn just happened to be nearby when the call went out about Garuda’s summoning, and had offered to come along as support. She wanted to see what the two Ala Mhigan Walkers had learned in their time with the Grand Company units, handling less dangerous summonings while Aeryn…

Fordola shook her head; the image didn’t come to mind, though she knew she had seen it. What in the seven bloody hells was in that potion?

“Let’s get to work,” Fordola said, prodding Arenvald’s still dozing form with her toe as her handler began to call for them while the wind around the airship began to scream.

This aspect of her stolen Echo was much easier to deal with.


	25. Dote

It was nice to be back in the Rising Stones, even if it was only temporary, before she had to return to Ishgard.

Aeryn crossed the common area and went to her room, sighing at how nice it was to have her own room again, not some borrowed space where she felt strange even using the provided furnishings. Not that she could stay for too long, but while she was here, might as well get some work done.

Aeryn left her door open as she crossed to the desk, the usual semi-tidy stack of recent paperwork and currently read books littering the surface. She found the thesis she had been wanting to finish and went to sit in the nearby armchair.

She shouted when something furry squealed in protest, skittering away as Aeryn leapt and whirled about trying to see what it was and where it had gone. Was it a rat? Had rats moved in while the place had been held by the Crystal Braves?

“Oh, is this where he’s gotten to?” A familiar voice came from her still-open door. Aeryn looked over at Thancred, less familiar in appearance since they had found him in Dravania, though at least it looked like he had finally bathed and properly combed his hair.

He tilted his head as he looked up at Aeryn. “I forgot you are not fond of rodents. Still, I’d think a woman who fights gods and monsters for a living would be less...easily startled.”

Aeryn huffed as she got down off the desktop. “I’ve been doing a lot of dragoon training while in Ishgard,” she said. “Jumping is a habit.”

“Ah yes. Of course,” he answered dryly. Then he crouched down and made a chittery-smooching sound, a few nuts appearing in his hand. Across the room, a small grey nose peeped from behind her bookshelf, followed soon by the rest of the nutkin. It bound over to Thancred and climbed up his arm, snagging the biggest of the nuts to gnaw on while nestling on the rogue’s shoulder. “There’s a good boy. Yes, not so scary at all, are you? No.”

Aeryn raised a brow; he was actually _cooing_ at the little fuzzball. “We did leave you in the woods too long.”

“Entirely likely,” he replied. “I’ll try to make sure he doesn’t get into your things in the future. Perhaps properly closing your door would help.”

“Pretty sure he was in here already,” she countered. “Obviously picked up some bad habits from certain sneaks.”

“Nonsense. Perfectly well-behaved.” He pet the nutkin, scritching its chin when it craned its neck. “We shall leave you to your work, and return to our own then.” He straightened, giving her a mock salute goodbye with his free hand, while continuing to cuddle the nutkin with the other.

Aeryn shook her head as she secured her door. What changes they had all gone through, since that fateful night in Ul’dah.

She supposed she was going to have to simply get used to having the nutkin about.


	26. Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A summary of friendship, using a bit more game dialogue than previous entries, and lines from a primal's theme.

> _Staring at death, I take a breath, there's nothing left_  
>  _Now close my eyes, for one last time, and say goodbye_

“Never since we first fought have I seen you draw upon the full extent of your power...and never from _afar_ till this day. You were a marvel to behold, Aeryn.”

Aeryn blushed as she shrugged. “I did what needed done, that’s all.” She smiled shyly up at Ysayle as they began their trek across the Smoldering Wastes. “Besides, Shiva was just as impressive to watch fight from afar this time.”

"Hrmph,” Ysayle tossed her head, long hair dancing behind her as the wind caught it. “I had hoped one primal could defeat another, but…” she sighed heavily. “I was not as strong as I assumed.”

“You did plenty of damage, though,” Aeryn noted. “Your battle cost Ravana a significant amount of aether--and your use of the crystals means the Gnath haven’t a ready supply to resummon their god anytime soon, and certainly not at that strength.”

Ysayle considered that, her fine brows drawn together. “‘Tis strange, that the more time I spent with you and Alphinaud, the more I realize how little I truly understand of primals, despite my connection with Saint Shiva.”

“And there’s yet more we still do not know, either,” Aeryn admitted. “Before…” her throat constricted as it always did whenever she had to think about Ul’dah, about the other Scions. “...Before I fought you, we were already revising our understanding of primals, thanks to a few encounters that did not fit the familiar model.”

Ysayle looked down at her.”Tell me? After all, it’s quite the long walk back to Loth ast Vath.”

Aeryn considered. On the one hand, it could be seen as aiding an enemy. On the other, however, Ysayle was woefully uninformed, and even misinformed, about the Echo and primals--on purpose, blast the Ascians.

She looked up again and smiled. “Certainly. So, as the archons explained it…”

> _Unchosen paths, a broken past, forespoken wrath_  
>  _The pain won't cease, I'll find no peace, no sweet release_

“Leave her,” Estinien was blunt as ever. “Your words will not reach her now. And we have not the time to wait for her to gather up the pieces of her shattered faith.” He whirled and stalked away, leaving Aeryn to puzzle at the twinge of sympathy she sensed--his own, or a projection she put upon him?

She sighed and looked down at Ysayle, kneeling on the ancient stone, reeling from Hraesvelgr’s revelations. It made sense, given what Aeryn knew of primals, all the research and information gathering done over her moons with the Scions.

No amount of Sharalayn education and practical field experience would help Ysayle now, however. Much as Aeryn hated to admit it, Estinien was right.

Aeryn knelt next to the elezen woman. There wasn’t much time, but she couldn’t simply leave, either. “We’ll return,” she promised. “We’ll figure this out.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “You’re not damned.”

That elicited a sharply-drawn breath, at least. Aeryn pressed her hand to Ysayle’s shoulder as she stood. “We’ll return,” she repeated, before she turned and followed the Azure Dragoon.

> _The endless lies, I've cast aside, locked them in ice_  
>  _Steeled is my soul, my blood grown cold, I've gained control_

“I’m so sorry,” Ysayle said, resting her own cool hand on Aeryn’s wrist. “He was a good man.”

The tavern at the Observatorium was as cold and unwelcoming as Aeryn’s first visit, but at least she could easily meet with Ysayle here. The Durendaire guards grumbled, but the orders from Ser Aymeric were clear: the Lady Iceheart was to be afforded all courtesy as a friend of Ishgard, bringing the various heretic factions back in line during the tentative attempts at peace. And none of the Durendaires were about to argue with the Warrior of Light--Lord Drillmonte’s orders had been clear as well.

“Your Ironworks friends should have you caught up to the Archbishop easily enough. And then…” Ysayle sighed. “Seems strange, to wish for yet more vengeance, when our journeys together were to bring an _end_ to the bloodshed.”

“There’s a difference,” Aeryn said slowly, quietly. “Between vengeance, and justice.”

“And which side of that narrow line do you tread, Aeryn?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. She could not, would not lie to Ysayle. “I _hope_ justice, for perpetuating the lies that have choked Ishgard for so long. For what was done to Aymeric, his own son. For… for...Haurchefant…”

Dammit, the tears were starting again. Aeryn pressed her free hand to her eyes.

Ysayle’s hand left her wrist, arm wrapping around Aeryn’s slim shoulders now as she hugged her. “I pray you find the justice you seek,” she said, sincerely. “This war has seen enough of revenge.”

They were silent for a short time, Aeryn leaning into the embrace Ysayle offered. Finally though, she sighed and pulled away, taking a drink from her mug and ignoring the side glances from the tavern keepers and few other patrons.

“You could join us,” Aeryn suddenly said, before she thought too long about it. “I know Alphinaud would welcome your company.”

Ysayle smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but I yet have work here. Although…” she hesitated, and Aeryn sensed something weighing upon her friend’s mind.

“You have your own plans,” she said, encouraging the other woman to continue.

Ysayle nodded. “I wish to return to Zenith.”

Aeryn nodded. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised.

“I want to speak to Hraesvelgr again--if he will deign to suffer my presence,” Ysayle smiled bitterly. “There is much I still do not know, nor understand--but I would learn of it, and from who else?”

“I hope you find the answers you seek,” Aeryn said.

“So do I.” Ysayle looked up as the bells rang outside. “I should be going, and I’m guessing you have places to be as well, given what the archon said earlier.”

Aeryn nodded as they both stood, each dropping a generous tip on the table. She had only briefly introduced Y’shtola and Ysayle, but the two seemed as though given time, they would get along well. Aeryn hoped so.

“I’m just going to ‘port back to the city, if that wind is any indication of the weather,” Aeryn said, listening to the keening against the stones. “Don’t freeze on your way home,” she teased.

Ysayle smirked. “The cold never bothers me,” she replied. She gave Aeryn a small wave before turning and sweeping out of the tavern, into the snowy night.

> _Fearless creatures, we all learn to fight the Reaper_  
>  _Can't defeat Her, so instead I'll have to be Her_

“Is that...Ysayle?” Alphinaud watched anxiously. “What does she mean to do?”

The aether gathered in familiar patterns, Ysayle’s voice ringing across the sky, even through the hail of cannonfire. Aeryn’s heart constricted as it had in the Sil’dahn tunnel, as another Chosen woman’s words echoed in her mind:

_“As long as your flame continues to burn, the light of dawn may ever be relit!”_

“She’s buying us time,” Aeryn whispered hoarsely, able to do aught but watch as yet another sister sacrificed herself for Aeryn’s sake. For the sake of peace. For justice.

> _Open my eyes now here I come, oblivion_

The docks of Azys Lla were much as she remembered them, the Allagan construction nearly unchanging even after millenia. Looking around the airship landing, Aeryn spied a hint of bright, natural color at the end of the dock, out of place amongst the metal and lights.

Walking over, she quickly recognized the bouquet of Nymeia lilies, a common offering to the departed.

She could only think of one other who would have left such fresh blossoms.

Aeryn looked out across the clouds, remembering the battle. Her memory continued, beyond it to the moments since, to another sister, lost in the Aetherial Sea--

No. Not yet. This journey had its own memories.

It did not end in Azys Lla, however. Even if one of the silver-haired apparitions Aeryn had glimpsed from the corners of her eyes at the Steps of Faith had come to her end here.

 _"It ends where it begins,"_ Papalymo had once said, forever ago. That applied, Aeryn realized, to both of those lost.

She cast a simple spell on the lilies, refreshing the bouquet, giving the little memorial a bit more time. She was sure he wouldn’t mind.

Aeryn returned to her manacutter, considering the wind currents best to ride to her final destination, to end her journey and finally close this chapter--while never, ever, forgetting.

> _For the last time (I won't say goodbye)_


End file.
